


Training

by TabsBrowser



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Swearing + also gen violence warning, heres smth i wrote in the middle of november with no apparent context, i was playing widow in the training area and swearing a lot, im not good at aiming, roughly overwatch inspired i guess?, sup yall i have No idea how ao3 works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 10:05:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabsBrowser/pseuds/TabsBrowser
Summary: If you have to go through this training simulation one more time, it's not gonna be a training dummy you shoot.





	Training

**Author's Note:**

> gl hf

In, out, in, out-- _slower._  
In.  
Out.  
Steady your grip and find your target. Move your finger into position. _Pull._

_-kccsh-_  
**[ _Nice shot rookie, keep it up. Beta, move ahead. Alpha, on me._ ]**

You don’t respond, choosing instead to reposition yourself farther ahead. You _cannot_ afford to fuck this one up. Now... where’s your next target? There has to be another one around here, it doesn’t make sense to leave this area unprotected. You have to make sure _you_ find _it_ before _it_ finds _you_.

There! Patrolling the upper level hall. It seems to be moving in a regular pattern. Easy kill. Okay, slow your breathing, line up the shot, and-

_-bang-_

####  **{You Have Been Eliminated. Please exit the training area.}**

“ Fuck! Who the fuck shot me?!” 

**[ _Looks like one of the Beta squad had a stray bullet. Though, if you were that low on health, you should’ve done something about it._ ]**

You mute your mic to let out a short scream of frustration before firing back, “Oh fuck off, I would’ve been perfect if someone could control their gun.”

**[ _That’s why we’re here rookie. Go cool off while we finish the sim. Meet us for analysis at 1400._ ]**

Yeah, _sure_. You’re going to tear that fucker’s head off at analysis. You were so goddamn close! At this rate, you’ll never making it out of training. You swing by the equipment room to drop your gear off at your locker, before leaving to go “cool off”. Of all the fucking days, it _had_ to be today. Just your luck. The one day you manage to not make a fool of yourself, of _course_ someone does it for you. If you hadn’t just been shooting them, you’d go take your anger out on some practice bots. Fuck. You notice your feet are headed towards the courtyard, and y'know what, fuck it. That seems as good a place as any to scream your head off. 

As door slides open, you find you’re not the only one out here. The other person glances up for a moment before returning to their reading. Whatever, it’s not like you were going to literally scream. Okay so maybe you were, but you can’t now, so just- shut up. You decide walking angry laps around the area is a good plan B. Maybe you’ll make the other guy uncomfortable enough that they’ll leave. 

20 tiring, sweaty minutes of aggressive fast-walking later, they’re still there. It’s like they haven’t noticed your stomping around at all. What are they even reading anyways? It can’t be _that interesting_. You debate whether or not to ask them about it for another 5 minutes, before you’re called back to the overview room for analysis. You suppose you’d better not keep the “commander” waiting. Asshole.

**Author's Note:**

> gg


End file.
